


Threadlocked

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry Sex, Arguing, Best Friends, Fluff and Crack, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tempers are high at 221 B Baker Street, so high in fact that they've had to call in reinforcements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threadlocked

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a hard time working on my projects so I said, you know what, we need smut and voila.....

“That’s it John!” shouted Sherlock before storming out of the flat in a rage. _That was it! That was absolutely it!_ He could not _stand_ it anymore _something needed to be done_. The tall dark haired man stormed down the streets of London, taking this turn and that deftly as he navigated his way from his flat to a destination he did not need to confirm. No one knew this town the way he did so when Sherlock Holmes needed something _he did not hesitate_. Sherlock’s entire demeanor changed as he pushed his way into a specialty clothing store. Without a blush or a hitch Sherlock walked right up to the counter and charmed the worker there into helping him make an appropriate selection. Sherlock could be very charming when it got him what he wanted and what he wanted was quick service. Once he’d obtained his objective his pleasantness disappeared and Sherlock raged his way back to Baker Street and John.

The men glared at each other as they passed one another by, Sherlock making a beeline for his bedroom. Yanking a pair of pajama bottoms on after discarding his suit and shirt the detective took a moment to run his fingers through his curls, breaking them a little so his hair was subtly wilder. With muttered curses and vengeful promises Sherlock ripped open the packaging of the small bagged parcel and put his new purchase on. Not bothering with his much cherished robe Sherlock jammed his feet into his house-shoes and went to the living room. John was stunned into silence, “You didn’t.”

“I did. Concede.”

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Well I did, concede!”

“I’m looking right at you and it’s still impossible to believe. You really did it, I mean, look at you!” John was completely shocked.

“Will you concede or not?” Sherlock was so incredibly irate he was nearly vibrating with frustration.

John’s eyes narrowed and his thin lips pressed together. His left eyebrow jumped and Sherlock felt the room grow simultaneously hotter and colder, “No.”

“No?” stubborn man! He was being spitefully stubborn!

“ _No_.” John’s voice was low and dangerous. He walked up to Sherlock where he stood near the hallway that led to the bathroom and then to the stairwell that led to where John slept. Their eyes locked, both men entirely unyielding. John’s steps were sure and strong as he went to his bedroom but Sherlock could still hear him muttering, heard a wooden bang and took himself to the kitchen. Let John walk those extra steps to find him. He wasn’t going down easy.

John came downstairs and stood in the entrance of the kitchen looking triumphant. “No! Unfair!”

“It’s totally legit. You can huff and puff all you want. Concede!” John did _not_ just make that demand!

“Never! I shall _never_! I will leave _right this second_ if I have to. I will _not_ concede!” Sherlock drew himself up to his full height, seeking to dominate the much smaller man in front of him.

John’s smile was unpleasant, “Concede right this minute Sherlock Holmes. You made the bet, you pay the price. Concede.”

“ _I shall not_. You cannot make me concede when concession is unwarranted and undeserved. You concede. You’ve lost and you know it.” Sherlock was not going to lose this.

Both men glared at one another before back up a step or two away from one another. “We need a third party. We can’t decide _this_ ourselves. It’s impossible. We both think we’re right, you know I’ve won. Let someone else tell you.” John was jesting, he had to be.

“You want to bring in someone else? Are you out of your mind?” Sherlock was outraged! How dare John imply that they could not take care of this issue themselves!

“We need an objective third party to make the decision. This is a subjective area so frankly, more than one person really needs to be involved. Choose Holmes. Either concede right now or help me select names. I’m not doing this anymore and I’m just going to go with the correct assumption that you have conceded.” John sat down at the table and even though Sherlock still loomed overhead the soldier managed to make it look like the detective was being made to wait.

Even more furious than before Sherlock slammed himself into a chair and glared at the doctor, “My brother.”

“Lestrade.” snarled the doctor.

“Mrs. Hudson.” hissed the detective.

“Molly.” shouted John.

Sherlock delivered the coup de grace, “ _Anderson_.”

“Oh my god! Are you bloody serious? Fuck you _are_ serious!” John’s anger vanished to be replaced with pure astonishment, “Tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tonight! This instant if I could. You call yours and I’ll call mine. No hints! Just get everyone here as soon as possible.” Sherlock and John resumed glaring at one another as they made their individual calls. It took a bit of convincing but both men put their mobiles down at the same time and glared at each other once again. “ _Battle-stations_.” hissed Sherlock and John nearly snarled at him again. They prepared, each man donning their house-coats like armor.

They heard Mrs. Hudson let in one person after another, as requested waiting for everyone before climbing the stairs to their flat as a group. Mycroft looked entirely irritated, “Good heavens little brother, what on earth happened that excused me from dinner with the Prime Minister?”

Sherlock pointed commandingly, “Everyone stand in front of the fireplace. On the count of three John and I will remove our robes. Everyone gets one vote each.”

John glowered at Sherlock and with a voice heavy with contempt he counted down, “Three…two…one.” in perfect synchronicity both John and Sherlock dropped their robes. Stunned silence greeted them.

“Are you….?” stuttered Molly.

“My heavens!” gasped Mrs. Hudson.

“Oh for goodness sake.” huffed Mycroft.

“God I’m glad I brought my mobile.” said Lestrade who immediately snapped off a shot.

“What am I looking at?” asked Anderson sounding confused.

John and Sherlock glared at each other once again before John said, “Our clothes.”

Sherlock harrumphed, “Particularly our tops! John insists on wearing these insipid and hideous jumpers. They deserved to be put to the flame! Doctor Watson claims he is ‘ _cute’_ in them. He has gone so far as to claim that he can out-cute anyone, especially me!” Sherlock sounded mortally offended.

Everyone looked. John was wearing a knitted jumper featuring cartoon bees that were busy harvesting a rather robust looking daisy who was apparently enjoying the fly-by molestation if the joyful smile on its face was any indication. Sherlock was wearing a cotton tee-shirt covered in piles of cartoon kittens, the warm and yielding fabric clinging to the detective and making the pile of kittens seem almost three-dimensional as they rode over the hard muscle beneath. John’s warm skin and gentle blue eyes were enhanced by the luscious green of the jumper just as the gentle blue of Sherlock’s shirt brought out the jewels in his eyes, the multi-colored kittens a match for the galaxy of colors the detective’s irises bore.

Mycroft turned to Lestrade, “I blame you.”

“Me? I didn’t have anything to do with this! I’ve been working.” Lestrade was very surprised.

“If you have any hope of surviving the night you will find my brother and his partner a case to work on immediately! Look at them!” Mycroft pointed at John and Sherlock who were waiting impatiently for votes to be cast.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Hudson bubbled, “John does look ever so darling all the time, but Sherlock in kittens? I’m sorry John but Sherlock gets my vote. He’s simply adorable.”

“There you go John. _Adorable_.” snarked Sherlock. John just growled.

Molly looked torn and apologetic, “Sherlock, I’ve never seen you like this. It’s amazing, it really is but the thing is…well you see…you’re only wearing this _now_ , but John…well…I’ve seen John wear this one before. Also that puppy one. His Christmas jumper? Also….”

“I understand _Doctor Hooper_.” said Sherlock coldly, “You are voting for John, _very well_.” Molly looked chagrined but nodded shallowly, a flush making her face bright red.

“I vote for John.” said Mycroft quickly.

“You’re only voting for John because you’re irritated with me!” snapped Sherlock.

“Yes.” agreed Mycroft. “I don’t care about your little insecurities. I have actual nation-wide securities to be interested in, ones that are being neglected even as we speak.”

“Throw your vote away on John if you want, anyone with eyes can see that Sherlock out-cutes John any day of the week. He can wear anything!” said Lestrade, “Remember that time he…”

“Yes yes yes, I’m amazing at costumes. _That’s not the point_! Thank you for your vote Lestrade. Anderson, the tie-breaking vote is _yours_. Just remember that _I_ am the one who asked for _you_ to be here.”

John shook his head, “He’s never going to vote for you Sherlock. You’ve spent the last six years doing nothing but mocking him.”

“You’ve spent the last six years threatening him!” retorted the detective.

“I’m not the one who outed him to his wife” shot back the soldier.

“He didn’t know that until now!” shouted Sherlock.

“You told my wife about Donovan?” said Anderson weakly.

“It was ages ago and you’re still married so clearly it wasn’t a fatal piece of information!” snapped Sherlock impatiently, “Vote now!”

“How long have you two been fighting about clothes?” asked Lestrade.

“Oh all week.” said Mrs. Hudson fondly. “They started in Monday night, something about John’s pants and it’s been escalating.”

Lestrade looked startled, Mycroft rolled his eyes, Molly blushed, Anderson looked confused and Mrs. Hudson tittered all over again. Lestrade looked at John, “Your pants?”

“His Monday pants.” snapped Sherlock, “He has different pants for different days and occasions. He wears _red pants_ on Monday. It’s idiotic.”

“Why did you see John’s pants?” asked Molly weakly and received a double-glare from both men.

“I was changing my clothes.” snapped John.

“You left your door open!” shouted Sherlock.

“It was _unlocked_ not _open_! _You_ opened it and you didn’t need to stay and stare!” yelled John back, “ _You_ wear silk pants! _Blue ones_!”

“Don’t tell everyone about my pants!” Sherlock’s voice was filled with outrage.

“You just told them about mine!” snapped John. Sherlock refused to look at the doctor.

Mycroft rolled his eyes again, “Gentlemen, ladies. I must excuse myself. Detective Inspector, should you be compelled to jail these two for misconduct please note I will be unable to bail them out for at least two days. I leave them in your capable hands.”

“Don’t flirt with Lestrade right in front of me! It puts me off!” Sherlock glared solely at his brother now, “Conduct your personal affairs in private.”

“Shall I follow in your footsteps dear brother? Is this how one goes about bedding ex-military medical staff? I suppose it’s a bit unconventional but not unexpected. Good day.” Mycroft didn’t wait to hear Sherlock’s angry retort or note the heated flush on John’s cheeks. He just turned on his heel and left.

Lestrade was now returning Sherlock’s glare. “Thanks for that Sherlock. Well, I’ve voted. I’m leaving now.”

“You can’t leave. You have to witness Anderson voting for me!” snapped Sherlock. Anderson looked bewildered. He took in John’s outfit and with difficulty looked at Sherlock too. He bit his lip and swallowed hard, “Well?” demanded Sherlock.

“Okay, well. Um…like Molly said….you’re only wearing that _now_. You wouldn’t normally wear it. You do look fantastic in your normal clothes and even your costumes but….” Anderson stalled.

“But what.” said Sherlock darkly. John had an angry smile on.

“Well…you’re very handsome … and tall….Doctor Watson isn’t so….tall….” faltered Anderson, “Um…smaller people tend to be….well….I guess what I’m trying to say is…” he stopped talking.

John snorted, “What he’s trying to say is that I won. _I’m_ cuter because I’m smaller and because I can wear the hell out of _any_ adorable outfit you choose. You just look like a pretender to the Cuteness Crown. Suck it up Holmes. I’m cuter than you are. Everyone knows it. I win. You lose. Time to pay up.”

“Everyone out!” shouted Sherlock, “Anderson. You have made a _grave_ error. _We could have been friends_.” Lestrade rolled his eyes and shepherded everyone out of the flat, leaving two steaming mad flatmates behind.

They stood there glaring at one another, John’s face still twisted into an angry grin that was mostly bared teeth, “You can take that stupid shirt off now.” he spat.

“Fuck you Watson. I demand another group of people. Let’s go.” snapped Sherlock, “Clearly they were _delusional_ as are you!”

“You fuck _yourself_ Holmes! I won fair and square now take that piece of shit _off!”_ yelled John.

“Make me.” hissed the taller man, almost hunched over as he scowled as hard as he could at the smaller man in front of him.

“Oh I’ll make you.” promised John with heat. In four short steps he was right in front of Sherlock and suddenly both men were rolling around the floor hitting and grabbing at one another, John desperately trying to pull Sherlock’s new kitten shirt off while Sherlock struggled to keep it on. Their knees struck out, closed fists hit torsos and suddenly a loud tearing sound made them both jump apart. Sherlock’s new shirt now had a long tear in it from the bottom all the way to the center of his chest, “Take off the shirt. Now!” barked John.

Sherlock was staring at the tear with a stunned expression, “You Neanderthal!” suddenly John found himself pinned to the carpet, his jumper being torn off. Before he could stop Sherlock the jumper was gone and in the fireplace where it smoldered for only a second before bursting into flames, “You fucking _fucker_! My mum gave me that!”

“She clearly is as color-blind and ill-dressed as _you_!” Sherlock’s teeth were clenched, his eyes insane.

“You pompous shit!”

“You midget fashion reject!”

“You are an arrogant twat!”

“You are an ignorant….” Sherlock had no chance to finish his insult. He was being tackled to the floor by John who was clawing and tearing at Sherlock’s shirt until it finally torn the rest of the way. Triumphantly he threw it on top of his now blazing jumper, “That’s it!” John found himself flung face-down on the carpet once more, his pajama bottoms being torn off his legs. Sherlock threw them into the fire before being dragged away by the now out-of-control soldier who slammed Sherlock down as hard as he could, knocking the wind out of the taller man. Sherlock found his pajama bottoms being yanked down, and in desperation he tried to hold onto them. John prevailed by dint of jabbing Sherlock’s ribs hard with his fingers so he jerked reflexively, letting go of his bottoms. John yanked them off and threw them into the fire.

Sherlock stood. He was entirely naked now, “Where are your fancy pants now Mr. Silk?” sneered the doctor.

Sherlock's scream was almost feral. He launched himself at John and caught the soldier directly, taking him right down. They were biting and scratching now as John struggled to keep his pants on while Sherlock tried to take them off. They weren’t even speaking, their grunts and snarls the only sound apart from the meaty thuds of their hands and knees striking at one another. Sherlock elbowed John in the stomach and when the doctor collapsed with a painful exhale the detective gleefully stripped him of his pants, throwing them on the fire with the remains of the rest of their clothing. John didn’t hesitate. He tackled Sherlock as well and soon they were crashing all over the place, fists flying, bodies twisting, teeth snapping. It was entirely by accident that they shifted and rolled at the same time, bringing their hips flush together, their cocks stroking almost delicately past one another. Both men gasped and froze where they were.

The haze cleared in Sherlock’s mind. He looked at John who was shocked, his face flushed and sweaty. He suddenly was aware that they were laying on the carpet mere millimeters from one another, their naked flesh almost touching everywhere. When Sherlock looked into John’s eyes he saw the soldier’s eyes grow dark, his pupils dilating until the color was nearly gone. Sherlock then found himself pinned beneath the smaller man, their hands reaching for one another as their mouths crashed together.

The struggle continued, this time for closeness. Arms and legs tangled together, tongues licked and tasted, hands wandered, and their groans filled the air. John was hard and ruthlessly he reached down and stroked Sherlock’s cock until it ached. Sherlock flipped them over, grinding his erection against John’s as their mouths locked together. Sherlock felt John’s hands on his ass, pulling his cheeks open so the doctor could rudely finger him, “I’m going to fuck you.” promised the blond feverishly.

“Not if I fuck you first.” and the struggle changed yet again. Now both men gripped and struggled for dominance, their hips thrusting, their mouths still sucking kisses onto any bit of flesh they could reach. John stunned Sherlock by shifting into a squat position, yanking the taller man flush to his body and lifting him straight up, “Oh _god_ John!” moaned Sherlock.

“I’m going to fucking wreck you.” promised the smaller man, bearing Sherlock to his bedroom in a few quick steps. He threw Sherlock face down onto the mattress, pinning him there and forcing Sherlock’s legs open.

 _“Hng!”_ was the only thing Sherlock could say when the soldier buried his face between Sherlock’s buttocks, his tongue lapping, spreading saliva everywhere as he plundered. Sherlock found himself pulling his own ass cheeks open even more, encouraging John to keep licking and sucking, reveling in the way the doctor plunged his tongue into him over and over again, opening him as quickly as he could, “Drawer!” he gasped at last.

John pulled away for moment and Sherlock heard his beside drawer open. He was panting but still managed to remember to push a pillow beneath his own hips. He heard John tear open a condom packet and click open the bottle of lube. He shouted again when he felt the first of John’s fingers simply push into him, “You won’t be able to walk for two days.” promised the soldier heatedly and Sherlock could only moan, rocking his hips back so John’s finger went deeper faster, “Oh yeah, you want this so bad don’t you, you’ve probably wanted it for ages, am I right? You’ve been wanting me to fuck that pretty hole of yours?”

John was almost crooning over Sherlock’s back as a second finger nudged its way inside. Sherlock’s blood was aflame, he couldn’t think rationally. He was sore all over from their fight, was fairly certain his lip was split, and knew John’s back had several bruises and scratches on it from their earlier exertions. Right now none of that mattered, “Just do it. Do it John.” he begged.

Sherlock shivered as John kissed his way up Sherlock’s spine, the doctors’ teeth biting gently now, his fingers pumping slowing in and out. When John kissed the nape of Sherlock’s neck the detective shuddered all over, “John!”

“Turn over.” ordered the soldier and Sherlock obeyed without hesitation. John tugged Sherlock’s left leg up, pushing it nearly to Sherlock’s chest as he lined himself up. John groaned with Sherlock as his cock nudged against Sherlock’s entrance, “I’m going to fucking wreck you.” promised John all over again.

Sherlock’s back arched and his mouth fell open as John pushed inside him. It was exquisite. John’s cock was just thick enough, just long enough. As soon as he bottomed out though the doctor wasted no time withdrawing and slamming inside Sherlock as hard as he could. Sherlock nearly shrieked, his own cock responding to the intensity by growing harder and beginning to leak clear droplets of precum. It felt amazing, better than sex had ever felt before. John’s body was magnificent, so strong, so powerful.

John fell forward. Now they were nearly lying on their sides next to each other. Sherlock was limber enough to drape his leg over John’s shoulder and both of them groaned as John slid home easily, “Sherlock,” moaned the soldier, “So fucking good!”

Sherlock managed to get one hand onto John’s ass, yanking at him until John began to drive inward even harder, their bodies slamming together almost painfully. Sherlock was grunting now, completely incapable of silencing himself. He didn’t care what he sounded like, he just wanted John to keep fucking him. It was painful and gorgeous at the same time, his entire body felt like it was burning up, sweat was popping from every single pore. John twisted his hips sharply and Sherlock shouted all over again, his eyes nearly crossing at the intensity.

“Uh!” now John was grunting, his eyes closed, his brows raised high, “Fuck!” the soldier’s voice was rough and breathless, “Fuck…it’s….oh fuck…I’m….oh fuck!”

Sherlock felt all the heat in his body condense in his abdomen, “John.” he moaned, finally reaching for his dripping cock.

All the breath left Sherlock’s body at the first stroke and his whimper was high-pitched and breathless, “Come for me beautiful, come for me, come for me, oh god Sherlock, I need you to come for me.” John’s voice was filled with desperation, the words falling from his lips accompanied by groans.

Sherlock’s arms wrapped around John, their foreheads pressed together, “John. John. John.” suddenly they were working in perfect harmony with each other, John’s hips slicing fluidly forward, their gasps and moans as intertwined as their limbs, “Lovely John, marvelous John.” sighed Sherlock, incapable of keeping the words to himself.

“You’re so beautiful, oh god you’re so perfect,” whined the doctor, clearly at the edge, “Sherlock.” All the air left Sherlock’s lungs as his whole body arced backward, his head thrown to the side as he nearly howled with release. John’s face was buried against Sherlock’s neck as the doctor thrust brokenly, his cock throbbing as he let loose a shout. Sherlock felt his cock jerk in his hand, semen painting both their bellies with stripes of white.

John’s whole body relaxed and Sherlock felt himself uncoil, his leg slipping off John’s shoulder. Dimly he realized it was John’s bad shoulder but it hadn’t seemed to bother the soldier. Sherlock’s brain was hazy, he couldn’t think clearly. Hormones buzzed through him, keeping him dreamy and unresisting, a timeless state of unthinking bliss as his body collected itself, his breath becoming steadier until finally he was able to think rationally.

John was still laying on Sherlock, his condom covered cock limp against Sherlock’s sweaty thigh. “Fuck.” he said weakly.

“We just did.” said Sherlock in a voice that was barely stronger.

John laughed quietly, his body jiggling on top of Sherlock’s until the detective was laughing softly with him, “What the hell is wrong with us?”

Sherlock shifted finally, winding his arms back around the doctor, pulling John in for a long slow and tender kiss, “Nothing is wrong with us. We’re absolutely perfect.”

“We nearly killed each other, we burned our clothes, and I think I have a black eye.” Sherlock shifted and examined John’s face. His right eye was a bit swollen but not badly bruised.

“It’s not too bad. You split my lip.” John examined Sherlock’s face in return. Now that all the adrenaline was dissipating the pain of it was making itself known.

Sherlock wasn’t expecting John to lean in and kiss the wound tenderly. “It’s not too bad either; it will be swollen for a day or so.” John’s mouth returned to Sherlock’s and he hummed against the soldier’s mouth as their lips met gently. John’s eyes were closed when the kiss ended but he brushed his nose against Sherlock’s cheek before dotting smaller kisses all over his face, “Sorry.”

John pulled away, removing the soiled condom and discarding it in the bin. Sherlock smiled softly at him as the doctor ruefully looked over his shoulder, “We’re a mess.” there were bruises scattered over both their bodies and Sherlock could feel his muscles stiffening, the aches beginning to bloom everywhere.

“Nothing a hot shower won’t fix,” said Sherlock softly, “Join me?” John grinned and Sherlock almost couldn’t breathe. John’s face was boyish and his eyes nearly shone. “Help me up.”

John’s grin grew bigger as Sherlock moved with awkwardness, his legs simply not behaving the way they should, “Two days. I promised.”

“Well done John, you might need to prop me up against the shower wall,” gritted Sherlock. His behind stung painfully now. Despite their pains and stumbling they got to the shower and washed up slowly, exchanging small smiles and laughs until they were clean. As they toweled off after Sherlock looked down at John, “Sleep with me tonight.”

“Yeah? What about tomorrow night?” John’s eyes were so amazing, how had Sherlock not seen how gloriously blue they were.

“I’ll sleep with you.” replied Sherlock. “Upstairs.

“And the night after that?” John stepped closer to Sherlock who drew the smaller man into a warm embrace.

“The night after that I should be recovered,” he leaned down and kissed John softly, “Maybe we can see about making it hard for me to walk again.”

“Is that a date?” asked John with a soft smile and a gentle kiss.

“It’s a date.” replied Sherlock in a near whisper. They kissed for several minutes, “Will you date me John?”

The doctor kissed Sherlock’s cheek, nuzzled under his jaw to press small kisses along it until he made his way back to Sherlock’s mouth. One long, sweet kiss later John nodded, “If you don’t mind me being greedy about it.”

“I won’t mind as long as I don’t have to share you with your girlfriends.” Sherlock closed his eyes and regretted saying anything because John stopped moving.

He felt warm lips on his and heard John’s promise, “You’ll never have to share me with anyone, ever.” Sherlock’s mouth smiled and his eyes opened to look directly into John’s which were filled with earnestness, “For as long as you want Sherlock.”

Sherlock bit his sore lip and held John tight, “Time for bed John.” he said by way of reply and the doctor smiled. They dropped their damp towels and went to Sherlock’s room where they remade the bed and climbed in together. Still laughing softly they curled up tight in each other’s arms. “What a beginning.”

“Perfect for us.” said John, his eyes already closing wearily, “Any other way wouldn’t have been us.” Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes too. John smelled wonderfully familiar; his body was solid and so warm that the taller man simply melted against him, his long limbs twining around the smaller man to hold him as close as possible, “Night love.”

Sherlock managed to say “My John.” as he began to drift off to sleep, his body sore and weary but his heart full and happy. He felt John kiss him softly one last time and managed two more words, “My love.”


End file.
